


Tough Times *Rewritten*

by orphan_account



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Dadtryck, Depression, Implications of Past Child Abuse, M/M, PaulIsAStressedBOY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a tedious childhood, Tord is put up for adoption, having been found out about his rough parents. A bullied boy, thankfully no more. Paul and Patryck welcome him with open arms. Tom is an alcoholic who also seems to have a horrible environment as well.





	1. Up in Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-written version! There will be a steady flow of chapters as I update. If you want to read further, check out the original on my Profile. Some events will be swapped.

 

  
  


moans filled the house, familiar to residents. Tord, with his feet kicked up on his desk and a laptop on his lap relaxed. The door creaked, a disgruntled father steps in.

''Tord, we've talked about this.'' Paul massages his temples, ''Hentai is disgusting and addictive.'' Tord shut his laptop, legs fell off the desk.

''So is sex.'' he shot back, smirking. He does not hear his Fathers often, but they partook. All couples did, besides Asexuals.

''Let's get one thing straight-'' Paul runs a hand through his hair, huffing.

''Not you.'' Tord snickered, hands behind his head.

''Are you ready to be mature?''

''Are you ready to stop kink shaming me?'' Tord pressed his lips together, crossing his arms. So what if he liked Hentai?

''Sex is normal.'' Paul began, ''Hentai is not.''

''What's wrong with third-person pornography? Why can you partake but I cannot?'' Tord narrowed his eyes, ''It's the same thing but animated.''

''I'm not having this conversation. Don't skip today.'' Paul waved his son off, turning on his heels to exit. He mumbled audibly under his breath, 'I need a smoke.''

''Chicken.'' Tord taunted, face molding into a smirk.

Oh, that reminds Tord. Scampering over to his drawer, there lay a cigarette box and lighter. removing them, he stuffs it into his hoodie. He had to admit, Paul influenced Tord a tad in smoking. But most of it happened due to stress and inability to cope. It worked so well for his father, what about himself? Tord knew the health repercussions, but what did he have to lose? He didn't bother to brush his teeth. It was too early to try. Moving downstairs, he slipped on his sneakers. His other Dad, Patryck had long left for work, leaving Paul whom was getting ready. Tord recalls plans he made with Tom, often they'd ditch class to drink and smoke. Leaving his house, he doubled around to dangle keys. Sticking them in, the lock clicked. His highschool, 'Cloud heights' is located across his house, thankfully. There, Tom awaits. Running forward, his friend waved.

''Hey, commie.'

''I originate from Norway, but I'm not a commie.'' Tord liked to shoot Toms taunts, analyzing them until they're not funny anymore.

''How is your American accent so clear, though?'' 

''I grew up in America most of my life.'' Tord shrugged, his thumb pointing back to Tom's blue motorcycle beside him. ''Let's go.'' Scoffing, Tom obliged. Mounting onto the front, Tord already climbed on before him.

''Where shall we go?'' 

''Frankly dear, I don't give a damn.'' Tord replied sarcastically. Tom revved the engine, thundering away. What's the colorful motorcycles from that movie? He could not recall. It would be cool if Tom had one though. They probably don't exist. Flurries of red and blue cars blurred by, music drowned out from Tords ride. The frigid air sliced his skin, releasing any exhaustion left. Occasionally, he and Tom would meet late at night and speed through the streets, free and  _ gone with the wind. _ It was liberating. The rush always appeared. Tom slows as they near the tree house, discreet and out of the way. It would be hard to find. He parked the bike, gesturing towards the hanging ladder. 

''Ladies first.''

''You know very well I'm a boy, Tom.'' Tord brushed him off, paying no mind. Tord followed suit, scaling up the ladder. The two made it a point to stay silent about their personal lives, as sharing those emotions were not manly. Plus, it maintained a safe emotional distance between them.That reassured both. Entering the wooden house, the two sat across each other. Tom, who wasted no time digging in his stash presented a Smirnoff. 

''Sneaky.'' Tord tapped his finger on the planks, refraining from smoking. If he dropped the cigar, it would burn.

''What kind of alcoholic would I be if I can't smuggle alcohol?'' Tom grinned, tossing a flask towards Tord. ''Drink up.''

God knows what alcohol is in it, not that Tord cares. Alcohol is alcohol, right? Swigging a chunk, he grabbed his throat and gagged.

''GAH-!'' Violent coughing patterns ensued, the back of his throat burning.

''Pfftt.'' Tom slapped his knee, chortling. ''You fell for the Vodaka.''

''Are you a sadist?'' Tord wiped excess liquid with his wrist.

''There's a method to my madness.'' He shrugged, ''Wait a moment, it'll hit you soon.''

The fuzzy feeling rose within Tords gut, numbing his senses. ''Whoa..''

''Right?'' Nodding to himself with self affirmation, he sipped his beverage. Tord threw the metal flask at Tom, landing in his lap. ''You're lightweight so expect dizziness.''

As Tom informed, Tord saw stars. Letting out one hand to stabilize, he tried to clear his mind.

''I'll stick to my smoke.'' Tord replied.

''It'll wear off in a minute.'' Staring down at his bottle, Tom huffed. Empty. ''Nothing gold can stay forever.''

''Okay, I'm recovered.'' He pursed his lips, his telltale heart pounding inside his chest. These occurred often, random senses of a churning stomach cursed him. For a moment, it hurt to breathe, each breath sending a sting in his chest. Tom raised an eyebrow at him, most likely noticing his crestfallen expression. 

''You're wincing.''

''No big deal, probably heart burn from that damn Vodaka.''

He knew it wasn't.

''It numbs once you're used to it.'' Tom replied, unaffected by the toxic liquid. Tords phone rung, his signature ringtone blaring. Running in the 90s. Risking a glance, Patryck is calling them.

''Looks like the school notified Patryck.''

''Good observation, captain obvious.'' Tom snorted, ''How're you going to handle it?''

''Watch and learn.'' He pressed answer.

''Tord, the school called. Are you out again?''

''Sorry, Dad. I had to take a moment. You know why.''

''If you need to talk, I'm here buddy.''

''Yeah yeah, Dad.'' 

He hung up, setting his phone down before fist pumping.

''Impressive. Whatever 'you-know-why-is', good manipulation.'' Tom praised, moving a hand to pat Tords shoulder. Immediately, a hand clasped over the culprits wrist.''

''No touch unless I start.''

''You're a weird dude.'' Tom half-scowled, ''It must suck having two Dads. There's a constant flow of Dad jokes.''

''Patryck never stops popping them.'' Tord exhaled, exasperated. ''He's the guy to give a 'you-tried' sticker.''

''On a new note, how do you get your cigarettes?'' Tom questioned, furrowing eyebrows.

''My Dad, Paul. Doesn't suspect a thing.''

''Naughty.'' Tom wagged his index finger, setting down his bottle. ''Give me a Norski phrase.''

''Drittsekk.'' Tord replied, tugging the box out of his pocket, shaking it to rise a cigar. He paid no more mind anymore they are in a wooden shelter. Lighting it, he inhaled before turning his head away to avoid blowing smoke in Toms face. 

''Knowing you, it's a swear word.'' 

''Guess you'll never know.'' Tord shrugged while he's taking a drag, and his stomach is sick. He figured it was all in his head, though. He should pull fast ones like this more often just to screw with Tom. 

''Fine, I'll google translate it.'' 

''No, don't!'' Tord exclaimed, reaching out to snatch Tom's phone away. The cigarette slid out of his hand, falling onto the wooden floor. Successfully, he achieved the phone. His one moment of glory drifted away.

''Do you smell something burning?'' Tom asked, eyes narrowed. His gaze leaned towards the ground where a spark formed.  

''Oh skit!'' Tord swore in his native language, growling to himself as the tree house caught fire. Scrambling to the ladder, Tom pushed past him. ''Faen!'' Tom made it safely, but the tree shook, Tords head whipping towards snapping branches. The house tilted, sending him flying out the exit. His heart pounded, screwing his eyes shut. Free fall through the air relinquished from Tords control. Thumping, he landed in arms. Chest launching forward, wind knocked out of him. Two supports held him as he tucked his head into his saviours chest. His chest heaved, hyperventilating. Sirens echoed, water hoses blasting. Fluttering his eyes open, above him appeared Tom and his haunting tattooed black eyes. Had he seen him in such a vulnerable sight? His image, inevitably ruined. He couldn't speak, his mind would not allow it. 

''TORD!'' A voice shrieked, distant.

''Dad..?''

Patryck rushed up in front of Tom, who held a shocked Tord in his arms tight. He wore his fire-fighting uniform, throwing a shock blanket over his son's body. ''How did this happen?'' His eyes, full of despair. 

''I was smoking and dropped a cigarette.'' Tom took the blow for Tord, looking for a favour in turn, nothing in life is free. 

'Mighty foolish of you! You almost killed my son.'' He was too caught up with concern to realize Tord hadn't made it to school after what he reported. Inhaling, Patryck calmed himself. ''Be careful, okay?''

Those words blurred out, all Tom could do is tremble with his clammy palms, cradling Tord as if he's a fragile baby. Why was he concerned anyway? Somewhere inside him, his chest burning with... what's it called? He payed attention to the emotion no more, labelling them a hassle.

Perhaps anybody would be distressed if their drinking buddy nearly died.


	2. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord is burned, Tom gets some time with Paul and Patryck.

'Ugh...'' Tord cringed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. A steady beep played, the dead giveaway to his location. Hospital? 

He turned his head, a blurred blue figure accompanied by two other men. 

 

''Tord, Tord.'' Patryck sat beside his son, resting on the bed. Paul in the corner folded his arms, weight leaned on one leg. ''You're awake?''

 

''Yeah..'' He looked around, inspecting the room. Tom sat on a chair next to Paul, crossed legs whilst glancing away. 

''What happened?''

 

''The tree house burned, Tom dropped a cigarette. You fell, and he caught you.'' 

Tom jumped, blushing. He had trouble maintaining eye contact, ripping his gaze away from Tords.

''He looked so concerned and shocked, you've a great friend, Tord.''

''Wouldn't it shock you if your tree-house burned?''

Ouch. Patryck flinched, ignoring Toms smart-ass comments. Tord just snickered, ''Yeah right.'' His mind reeled, Tom took the hit and said he smoked instead of outing Tord? Tom needs to get his priorities straight.

''Patryck. This doesn't obviate the fact he lied to you and skipped school. There needs to be consequences.'' He clenches his jaw, ''Used his mental illness against us.''

''Honey, he's sixteen. Teenagers will make excuses, don't you remember us?'' Patryck turned his head back to his husband, whose expression softened the least bit, looking away having been proved wrong. ''I agree there needs to be a punishment, though.''

A visible huff from Tord. 

''This isn't the first time, Patryck. It's ought to be severer.'' Paul tapped his foot, ''He doesn't learn.''

''Ah, I've got it!'' Patryck slammed his fist on his palm, an imaginary lightbulb popping. ''If grounding doesn't work, why don't we make him stand out with A board saying 'I lied to my parents and skipped school.' ''

''Patryck, Tord could careless what people knew.'' 

''Fine, what do you suggest?'' Patryck raised an eyebrow, twisting his lips.

''Ah!'' Paul snapped his fingers, ''No Hentai for a week.'' He nodded to himself, ''Take away what he loves, obviously.''

''I love nothing.'' Tord deadpanned, eyes half lidded. ''It's a waste of time.'' It's true, even if he fell in love, the spark would not last. The relationship would go downhill as he grew disinterested, or what if his partner cheated? 

''Oh, don't be like that son.'' Patryck ruffled Tords hair, who swatted him away. ''You love us and you know it.'' 

Tom stayed in the background, scratching his head. His expression sours, tattooed-black eyes averted. He nearly matched Pauls resting face. A light scowl with natural furrowed eye brows. Paul always looks angry, or at the least discontent. 

''Am I injured..?'' Tord inspected his body, the regular bruise or three appearing. From his knowledge, Tom caught him so there could not be broken bones. Touching his face, bandage wrapped around. ''Why..''

''You were burned. We needed to keep tabs on you.'' Patryck replied slowly, dragging out his words.

''You're blind in one eye now, Tord.'' Paul gave it straight, letting his arms fall to his sides. ''Your right arm is scalded pretty badly, but it'll still be useable.'' 

A hand grasped his right arm, his good eye wide. ''No, no no. Dad. It'll heal.'' He couldn't be blind in one eye, theres no way. He felt nothing.

''The adrenaline distracted you. Thats the truth, son. And the consequence.'' Paul tapped his eye, ''I got this from being a moron too, serves me right.''

''Don't you think he should still have his show, though?'' Patryck replied, taken aback. ''This is enough.''

''He shouldn't be watching Hentai.'' 

''Fine, I wont sleep with you for a good while, see how you feel.'' Patryck turned up his chin, crossing his arms. ''It's normal, every teenage boy watches porn.'' 

Tom, in the back jumped. Though, in a much more...fearful manner. Not the kind you'd show having been caught red-handed. The pure kind. Keeping the hand on his eye, Tord took a moment to absorb it all. Scalded arm, blind left eye. God knows when he would be out, and it would be presented on the news!

 

Tord stayed silent, staring down at his lap. The pain is strangely refreshing, contradicting his mourning of lost eyesight. It brought a sense of clarity, somehow. 

''Uhm, Mr Paul and Patryck?'' Tom said, abashed. He kicked imaginary dust in the air with his foot, ''Can I stay over with you for two nights?''

Tord squinted, Tom, reserved? Tom being unconfident? What a strange sight, open vulnerability. Ok. His mind drifted back to his wounds. What could be done? He should not worry about it right now. Suppressing it seemed like the best action. Patrycks face faltered, eyes worried. Paul didn't follow suite, rather kept his regular stone-cold face. If Tord needed to name the affectionate one of the two, Patryck takes the cake. Paul never expressed love, and always blunt. It's as if he couldn't express the proper words or emotions. 

''If your parents allow it, Tom.'' Partryck tightened his lips, cheeks puffing out. ''Are you ok with that, dear?'' Patryck leaned back into Pauls chest, who shook his head. 

''Yeah, I spoke to them.'' Tom half-smiled, his eyes uncrinckled. 

''Tord, will you be ok?'' Patryck frowned, wincing at his sons bandaged face and arm.

'' I'm alive, aren't I?''

''Ok, son. We've got to go. It's late.'' The man replied, ''We'll be back tomorrow, ok?''

''Yeah..''

~

''So, Thomas.'' Paul spoke from the kitchen, sauteing stir fry, ''Tell me about yourself, you reek of Alcohol.''

''You can put together the pieces, can't you? I had a drink. You're not my parents either way.'' Tom riposted, swirling the orange juice in his glass. What a forgein substance.

''Oh, Tom..'' Patryck sat beside him, tilting his head. ''Doing nothing is hurting you.'' 

Disgusting, what a caring parent. The odour of fresh food wafted up to his nose, lighting up his eyes. Patryck must have notice, because he grins. 

''Paul is an excellent cook, but never achieved becoming a professional chef.'' 

''I'd make something more complicated, but I'm too exhausted.'' Paul pitched in, yawning. ''Pat, could you get a beer?''

''What's the magic sentence?'' He cooed, a smug lip bite. Paul rolls his eyes, huffing. 

''Please, love of my life.'' 

''There you go!'' Patryck hummed a tune, bouncing to the mini-fridge. ''Wasn't that hard, now was it?'' Cracking open a beer using his hands, Paul set it on the counter, tapping his cheek. ''Payment.'' 

Begrudingly, Paul smooched Patrycks cheek, shutting his eyes. ''You and your validation.'' 

''What can I say? I'm a glutton.'' Patryck returned to his earlier spot, propping his chin up with his hand. ''Tom, how about a movie after dinner? It'll help get your mind off of today.'' The brunet insisted, eyes shining. Good god, this man is a bundle of caring sunshine. 

''You're not angry at me from earlier?'' 

''Mistakes happen, Tom. I can't say I'm okay, and I don't know if Pauls okay with it either.'' Patryck cupped his hands, staring down at his feet. ''He doesn't express it often. But, you saved Tords life. And that blocks out your mistake.''

 

''But-''

''No but's, Tom. You're our guest.'' Patryck reassured, sending a soft smile. A warm feeling spread in his chest, not something you'd feel drinking alcohol. This is something else entirely, a welcomed emotion. Paul whistled, 

''Dinners ready.'' Reaching into a cupboard, he set three plates down onto the counter, presenting the food nicely. Tom's mouth watered as he brough the plates over. This man made stir fry look like fancy food, soy sauce artfully drizzled on the side with the actual food in the center, a formed rice in the shape of a ball on top. A cackled could be heard across the table. 

''You act as if it's your first meal.'' 

''It looks delicious.'' All worries within the boy melted away, stabbing his fork into all three portions of his plate, stuffing them into his mouth. Paul tried to hide a satisfied beam, face reverting to casual. 

''One time, Paul made this complicated dish for our anniversary, Beef Wellington. Honey, tell him!''

''Beef Wellington is a puff pastry. Now, that is hard enough. Add the beef, and now you need to worry about not soaking the pastry, while the tenderloin needs to be juicy enough it isn't dry. Sprinkle kosher salt and black pepper. You need shallots, horseradish, butter, breadcrumbs.'' Paul ticked off each food on each finger, getting carried away. ''White wine is a wonder addition to a gravy, bay leaf, salt, button mushrooms, beef broth..'' 

Tom tried following along with Pauls passionate speech, nodding his head along. Paul covered his mouth, watching his husband go off further into techniques.

 

''What about our dessert?'' Patryck sneaked a glance to Tom, who knew his objective. Patryck aimed to embarrass his husband using his passion. 

''Baked Alaska, Neapolitan ice cream, chiffon cake, sugar, corn syrup, eggs white at room temperature...'' He went on, ''The hard part is the meringue, it needs to be perfectly crisped and bounce even to the lightest touch. The peaks need to be stiff. The best part? Pour rum on that bitch and set it aflame! That's called a 'flambe'.

''Yeah, Paul nearly scorched those bushy brows of his off.'' Patryck snickered, teasing Paul. 

''I'll make Baked Alaska tomorrow, ok?'' Paul agreed with everyone, who finished their plates. Each one practically licked clean. 

What's this feeling? A sense of security, home? 

Paul lifted his beer to finish the last sip, making a refreshed noise. ''I went off the edge, didn't I?'' 

''No worries, Sweety.'' Patryck got up, patting Pauls shoulder. Gesturing Tom into the living room, Paul dug in his drawer for a disc. Tom sat on the leather couch, sinking into the fabric. What a luxury. ''How does 'Return of the Zombie Pirates from Hell 4' sound?''

''Ridiculously long and entertaining.'' Tom nodded to himself as Patryck slid in the CD, tapping a few buttons on the remote and side of the TV. Joining him, Patryck threw himself on, tucking his legs in. 

''Oh, Popcorn!'' 

''Paul, Honey. Could you make popcorn?''

''I don't know, can I, Pat?'' Paul yelled from the other room, snorting. ''Revoke the no sex rule.''

''Paul, that won't happen.''

''Finnne!'' He groaned, crackling plastic could be heard from the kitchen, followed by pops. 

 

''I see who the boss is here.'' Tom joked, crossing his legs. 

''Paul acts tough, but I'm the owner here.'' He grinned, the movie beginning. The husband approached, setting two bags down on each of their laps. Leaning down, Paul got dangerously close, ready to receive fee. Patryck palmed his face away with a hand, smooshing the skin into a cute face. 

''C'mon..''

''Come back later, I'm busy with Tom.''

 

And so they chilled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom flees from Paul and Patrycks house, we learn more about Tord. The two chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lil' short, but the next one will be much longer!  
> Abuse TW  
> Implied cutting TW

Tom snorted awake, head rested on a soft surface. His head laid on Patrycks lap, who had an arm around Tom's shoulder blades. Flinching and flustered, Paul awakened. 

''Morning..'' He yawned, rubbing his eyes. ''You dozed off of on my lap, So I decided not to move.'' Shooting up stiffly, Tom made as much space between them as possible. ''Don't be embarrassed.'' 

''.. Ok.'' Tom nodded, stretching his arms. The sudden dread smacked him, he'd need to go home soon. Who knows what would happen? Self consciously, he pulled down his sweater sleeves, frowning. Pauls face faltered, setting a hand on Toms, who looked up, surprised.

''Do you need help?''

''I'm sorry, Mr. Patryck, my stay here was amazing but I should go.'' Tom moved away from the warming touch, turning his back. ''Give Paul my compliments. His food is outstanding.'' 

''Come back whenever.'' Patryck waved, voice low. Tom left the house, door clicking behind him. 

Patryck knew this behaviour from anywhere, there was no hiding. 

~

Prudently, Tom opened his door, gulping. There, awaited a less than pleased Father

''Where were you, Thomas?'' 

He tried to brush past him, but his wrist was clenched. 

''You're not going anywhere until you recieve your punishment.''

Tom didn't flinch, he knows what's coming. And you know what?

He learned to like it. 

~

''Paul..'' Patryck opened his husbands door, into their room. Paul already got up, in the middle of putting on his red shirt. 

''What is it? You look distressed.'' Paul finished, rushing over to rest hands on Pats shoulders. 

''It's Tom.''

''Yeah, I noticed.'' Paul pursed his lips, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Pulling him in, he pressed Patryck against his chest. ''We need evidence before we call CPS.''

''But... they're going to run Tom through foster homes, we won't be able to keep him safe..'' Patryck sighed, ''I may not have been abused but I can't just stand by.''

''There's emancipation.'' Paul suggested, massaging the small of Patrycks back, ''He can cut family ties legally, Tom is sixteen. We can have him under our roof.'' They swayed to the right, then left. 

''Is he ready, though?'' 

''Pat, stop over-thinking it. You talk to him, ok? I'm awful with emotions.'' 

''That's what  _you_ think, sweety.'' Patryck whispered,  closing his eyes. ''You just enjoy control.''

''You're not my psychiatrist, Pat.'' Paul pulled away, resting his arms. Although Patryck is not, he had always been sensitive to others suffering, taking care of others rather than himself. 

''But.'' he held up a finger, ''I  _am_ your Husband. I know you better than yourself.'' He ran a smooth thumb over Pauls long sleeves, as if it might hurt if he pressed too hard. ''I'm glad I'm with you.''

''Stop with this mushy shit.'' Paul scoffed, turning back to his bed. ''Let's go see Tord, he must be having a hard time.''

~

Tord laid flat, eyes burning one into the ceiling. His lack of sight in his right eye bothered him, anger rising. Doctors came in and out throughout the day, reapplying bandages and dressing the wound. Occasionally morphine, much to Tords dismay ironically. They asked questions and prodded about why he had multiple sustained fractures and such. Just to spite the Doctor, he replied truthfully; _I used to be in an abusive family_. The disbelief expressions were amazing, he had to hold a snicker back. After that, they no longer bothered him about unrelated cases. The door opened, revealing the prime suspects, Paul and Patryck. 

''How're you doing?'' Patryck sat beside him on the bed, just as yesterday.  

''When the Doctor asked about my myriad of fractures, I told them I was abused. Their expressions are comedy gold! No one bothered me about it after.''

''Same sick sense of humour like Paul..'' Patryck trailed off, his sentence running flat. Behind him, Paul couldn't conceal a grin 

''I bet you don't want out, huh?'' Paul spoke to Tord, who nodded vigorously. 

''If it means I miss school, all good. Wheres Tom?'' He hadn't seen him since yesterday, and something in his mind kept nagging about him. It would not stop until satiated. 

''Tom went home, but we had a wonderful night.'' Patryck spoke softly, hand over Tords, who gave up pulling away. ''We watched a movie and he fell asleep on my lap! It was so adorable.''

Tord covered his mouth, nearly spitting out water he was sipping. ''God, I wished I could have seen his expression! Tom  _does not_ do affection.'' 

''That reminds me, Tord.'' Paul stepped forward, hands behind his back, ''Has Tom talked about his home-life?''

''We don't talk about personal lives, it's strictly two bros hanging.'' Tord shrugged as best he could, coughing. It's true, the first day they met, they made that deal. Neither of them wanted to expose themselves. 

''We suspect he is abused, like you, Tord. We don't know what kind though.'' Paul deadpanned, straight to point. ''If you won't communicate with him, Patryck will.'' 

''Alright, you go Dad!'' Tord sarcastically cheered him on, fist pumping with his good arm. Getting any closer met trouble for both Tord and Tom, accidentally creating a bond. 

~

''Tom, you look out of it.'' Edd pointed out, frowning. 

''I got no sleep last night, that's all.''

Matt gasped, ''How could you do that to yourself? I can't bare to hurt my beautiful complexion.'' Edd pointed behind Tom, who turned back.

''Trouble incoming.'' he spoke lowly, Matt hid under the table. 

''Hey, loser.'' The bully teased, ''up for a beat?'' 

''Get away from him.'' Edd growled, ''teachers surround us, do you  _really_ want to expose your true, pathetic selves?'' It's true, four supervisers paced the cafeteria, watching for bullying, littering and misbehaviour. 

''I'm not done with you yet.'' The bully whipped around, stalking off. The entire time Tom didn't flinch a bit, amazing how he just ignored reflexes. He didn't give a reaction, nor said anything. In fact, if Edd had not been there, Tom would've likely been beat to a pulp today. Tord, the school menace was popular. Although Edd and Matt hadn't been formally introduced, they'd seen each other in hallways. Everyone admired him as a hero, beating bullies until they stopped, even supplying body guard support. He commanded respect and fear from many, and those who went against the typical morales received punishment. That included anything that hurt another person. How ever, he constantly skipped school lately, and broad casted on the news, low and behold, the fire incident. Tord had become blind in one eye, and had a useable yet scalded arm. He is essentially the gossip of the school. Tom returned to eating his bought lunch, and Matt his usual antics. 

''Hey, Tom. How do you stay so cool when you're threatened or beat up? Edd inquired, propping his head up using his hand. 

''Don't give them a reaction to either spite them or let them know you're not affected.'' Tom half-shrugged, ''Letting them know they've got no power over you is strangely empowering for myself.'' Yeah. And that's what got him beat up on a casual basis, home and school. 

''You need to fight for yourself though, Tom.'' Edd pleaded, Matt too busy staring into his phone, taking numerous selfies.''So uh, I saw you on the news- the fire.'' He trailed off, his feet becoming interesting all of a sudden. ''You saved his life, that's pretty admirable.''

'' _Can't say I'm saved_.'' Tom mumbled under his breath, bitter. ''It's really not, I just caught him.'' Tom waved away the praise, paying it no mind, ''attention in the last thing I need, frankly.'' 

The rest of the day went by too quickly, nearing the end. May he should visit Tord, check up on him. He had such wonderful parents, and it angered him. Patryck is your ideal father, son before himself, affectionate, forgiving. Unlike his counterpart, Paul who always had a calm disposition. It was amazing, really. He has never seen him sad,angry or happy. Then again, he doesn't often visit. His motorcycle was parked in the school lot, climbing onto the bike. He hooked on his protective helmet, feet stabilizing on the pedal. A gift from his deceased Mother, when things weren't so shitty. It never looked a day old, and Tom often polished it frequently, cleaning tarnishing and such. Riding off, he made toward the hospital. Stopping in his parking spot, he unmounted, helmet locked onto his bike. He already knew Tords room number, so all he needed to do was find the room. Entering the white place, he glanced around. To his right, a familiar plant. Walking over, he watched the room numbers pass by, muttering '456''. Twisting the knob, he stepped in to see Paul and Patryck with Tord. About to step out once again, Tom was about to shut the door.

''Tom, come in.'' Well, there's no chickening now. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he pulled up a chair he sat backwards on. ''Tord should be ready to go, but he'll need to change his bandage regularly and take it VERY easy.'' Paul inspected Toms' eyes, clearly dark and baggy. 

''Not a lot of sleep last night?''

''School does that to you, Mr. Paul.'' Tom replied, pursing his lips, ''Either way, Tord looks like shit.'' Tom pointed out, Tord sending a scowl over. 

''Yeah yeah, get me out of this bed so I can pumble you.'' Tord rolls his eyes, Paul hooked his arms under Tords armpits, helping him up to his feet. ''And out of this horrid gown later.'' He looked down at himself, scars galore. Memories of the past, healed. Well, maybe not his mentality. Shaky, Tord allowed Patryck to steady him. 

''Can you walk?'' Patryck doted, face frantic. 

''I'm fine!'' Tord lashed out, gritting his teeth, ''I can manage, I don't need to be babied.'' He stumbled, falling towards onto Tom, who caught him, arms wrapped around his waist. It was reminiscent of a hug, what with Tord using his friend as a prop. 

''You and I have different definitions of 'fine' young man.'' Patryck scolded, passing a grateful glance towards Tords saviour. ''Honey, you need sleep.'' 

''Can I stick with Tom, at the most?'' Tord needed to get away from his parents, just to recover. Maybe a smoke, maybe a drink. Anything to eliminate these troubles. A speeding ride on a deserted highway, maybe while smoking. ''He takes medical eductation in highschool, he knows what to do. Applying bandage and peroxide can't be that bad, can it?'' Tom shifted, Tord still in his arms. Patryck makes a noise of consideration, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at Paul, who huffed. 

''Sweety, I love you. We can't, though.'' Patryck shook his head, gazing at his feet. ''You're our responsibility, and if something happens I can't handle the shock of nearly loosing someone else I love.'' he grappled onto Pauls arm, eyes struck with fear. ''I already cried a good few hours while you were asleep.'' 

Coaxing Tord forward, the grown-dressed boy leaned in, whispering, '' _Pick me up at 4am.''_ Letting Tord into the arms of Paul and Patryck, he nodded in agreement. Swiping the prescribed pain-killers off the shelf, Paul pocketed the medication for Tords purposes. 

~

Tord stares out his window, his room desolate. There was something about it, despite being filled with numerous gun-shooting cards, showing off his stunning marksman skills. Added onto that, the abundance of collectable figurines. It neared four, and he desperately needs a smoke. Fidgeting in his sweaters pocket, he relaxed knowing no one found his cigarette pack stolen and lighter. Luckily, his room is not far from the ground. One could make the jump, like a kid would on a park-platform. Opening the window, revealing the cut-net film, he fumbled one into his mouth, thumb slipping off the igniter several times before succession. Cooling his nerves, he blew out the sliced frame. He avoids smoking in his room so it wouldn't smell later, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He felt as if he'd go crazy without one. Taking another drag, his muscles untensed, one by one. In front of his house, stopped the familiar face. Smirking to himself, he planted an arm on the window sill, projecting his feet out, shoulder rolling on his good arm. He couldn't lie, it hurt like a bitch.

''I didn't expect to see you stunting so early in your healing stages.'' Tom rubbed his chin, headlights blaring on his ride. Adding dramatic flair, Tord salvaged his cigar in his hand, taking a drag before puffing it in Toms face.

''A burn isn't stopping me from having fun.''

''Well? We haven't got all day, Tord. Get on.'' As Tord wrapped his arms around Toms waist, Tom couldn't help but noticed his gloved-bad arm, concealing any injury that might've occurred during the tragedy. Bandages peeked out at the wrist, where the glove ended at the base of his hand.

''Cool, right?''

''We have different definitions. Wait, Tord.'' He took off the helmet on his head, twisting around to settle the blue shield over Tord. ''You've a head injury, we can't risk anything.'' ''Aw, you care.'' Tord deadpanned, tauntingly batting his eyelashes.

''I care if Paul has to be stopped trying to decapitate me.'' Tom shivered, slowing stepping on the gas for a gradual start, building speed as they went. Squeezing his eyes shut, Tord tucked his head into Tom's back, indulging in the air hitting his limbs, and the rush of moving at top speed through never busy streets with no one to see, nor security cameras to peep. ''Hold on tight, Tord!'' They neared a ramp, Tom leans forward, Tord fastenting himself. Hitting the air, they are airborne. A clear, starry night. Tord laughed in glee, appreciative Tom is so experienced in these tricks. The bliss ends, tires screeching on pavement, filtering side to side before recovering. ''Now that is a stunt.'' Tom corrected Tord from earlier, his hair windblown back. Skidding to a halt, Tom planted his foot down, looking over his shoulder to spot Tord. Tord stared, zoning out at the reveal of the slicked hair. He looked, epic. For lack of a better term.

''Yeah..'' Tord tore his eyes away, resting them onto a nearby tree, ''Yeah, that was fucking amazing!'' Assisting Tord off the bike, Tom released the now balanced boy.

''Let's lay down, there's a hill over there.'' Tom pointed, removing the protective gear from Tord, who shook his hair out. Slowly making their way up the hill, underneath a tree Tom has taken Tord to an abundance of times. Sitting cross legged underneath the leaves, faint crickets echoed in the night, fireflies in the air. ''The sky is beautiful.'' Tom pointed out, and rested his hand.

''You know who else is?''

''Alcohol?'' Tord replied, snickering. Wheezing, Tom nodded.

''Yes, you know me too well.'' The two went quiet for a few moments, appreciating the calm atmosphere. A hum replaced the natural buzzing of the night, coming from Tord. Snorting, Tom covered his mouth. ''Are you humming Boku no pico?''

''I figured it would break the emotional atmosphere. I'm into some gross ass shit but pedophilia ain't one of them.''

''OH my god Tord! What's next, the Pornhub opening?'' He replicated the beginning tune, tears of laughter forming in the corners of Tom's eyes. Wiping them away, they stared up into the sky again.

''Cigarette?'' Tord suggested, shaking the box.

''Sure..'' Staring down at the box, Tord read the various labels. Taking one out, he tossed both the lighter and poison to Todd. Scrunching his eyes, Tord put the box into his pocket. Not today, at least. It wasn't worth it. Toms eyes widened,

''Whoa, you're actually not smoking?'' He lit up the end, huffing.

''Shut up, the last thing I need is hearing loss due to cigarettes or something worse. I'm already blind in one eye.'' Tom couldn't help but frown, crossing his arms.

''Maybe it'll add to your scary demeanour at school.'' A faint wind brushed pass them, blowing their hair. ''We should leave, we've been out for an hour.'' Tom stood up, holding out a hand to Tord, who denied.

~

I didn't think this through.'' Tord face palmed, staring up at his window. The lights were on in the house, and his only entry the front door. 

''Good luck with that, I'll stay at your house for the night. I forgot my key.'' Tom insisted, shoving Tord to twist the front door knob. On the kitchen counter, Pats' legs wrapped around Pauls' body, whose arms looped behind his neck, one hand in his husbands hair. After breaking a kiss, Paul faltered, tapping Patrycks back.

''Hun, he's back.'' 

Tord couldn't hold back his laughter from Tom frantically shielding his eyes, blushing violently. Patrycks head tore away from Paul, ripping away from the touch and crossing his arms. The  _sheer_ contrast of Pauls' coolness and Pats' hyperventilation could cut the air. 

''That 'No sex rule.' Didn't hold out very long, now did it?'' Tord got words out between his chortling, closing the door behind him. ''You didn't even care I snuck out and thought 'oh, now's our time!''

''We are angry, yes. I shrugged it off and knew you'd sneak out with Tom.'' Paul uncrossed his legs, ''I had to calm Pat somehow.''

''But on the  _counter_?'' Tom groaned, taking a seat on the couch in the living room. Patryck joined him, abashed. Paul, in the doorway leaning on the frame. Tord sat on the couch, closer than usual to Tom. Paul and Patryck raise an eyebrow. 

'What did you two do?'' Paul asked, a hand resting on his hip. 

''We went onbo a ride, that's all.'' Tord replied, leaving out the details on the Tree event and stunt. Paul turned his head away, gagging on his laughter. Both Tom and Tords face contorted in horror, waving hands in the air. 

''No, we did not fuck!'' Tom yelled, frowning. 

''Paul!'' Patryck joined in the yelling.

''What? Don't act as if you weren't about to be fucked either.'' 

''God, Paul...'' He face palmed, and he turned.'

''Sorry, I couldn't hear that last phrase.'' Paul replied, unsarcastically. Though, with his composition it's hard to tell these days. Taking Tom out of the room, Patryck led him to the table, pouring a glass of  OJ, while Tord and Paul stayed in the living room. Approaching quickly, Paul lifted a hand to his mouth like a gossiping girl. ''This is your chance, get some real shit instead of virtual crap. No son of mine is dying a  _virgin._ '' 

''Dad, I'm 16.''

''You also do stupid shit, what with Toms' wind blown hair.'' Gasping, Tord searched for words, ''I found the cigarettes in your pocket at the hospital and didn't tell Patryck. I know Tom took the shot for you, and I  _know_ you were laying on the grass.'' Plucking a piece of green out of Tords hair, Tord sighed. His father reached into his pocket, waving the pack. ''Did you think I wouldn't notice?'' 

''Why'd you let it go on?''

''I hadn't had a chance to talk. Now, you have a chance to  _hit it,_ take it.''

''But-'' 

''Go.'' Paul lifted his son up, guiding him into the kitchen, where Patryck and Tom sat, drinking juice. ''Why don't you two get some sleep? Tord has a couch in his room, I'm sure you can stay there, Tom.'' Paul and Patryck shared gazes, and Patryck just scoffed to himself.

''Yeah. Go  _sleep._ ''

The two walked up stairs to Tords dark room, and as promised, there waits a couch. Throwing himself on, he laid on his side. Tord, who pursed his lips sat on the part of the couch where Toms body curved as a C. Should he really do this? Paul would never let him live it down if he didn't. 

''What are you doing?'' The unsuspecting victim asked, and Tord didn't hesitate to lean himself in, and chickened.

''You had dirt on your cheek, it was bothering me.'' Getting up, he climbed onto his bed, laying on his back.

''You were going to kiss me, don't lie.'' Tom raised both eyebrows, ''What possessed you to try it?''

''Paul told me to ' _go get em, tiger_ ' basically, and I listened. It won't happen again.'' He turned onto his side, hand playing with strands of his hair. 

''First of all, I'm Asexual, Tord. I could care less if you kiss me. But... '' He trailed off, ''Never mind. I don't want to engage in those activities.'' Tom shivered, shutting his eyes. 

They tried to sleep.


End file.
